


raise a glass (to freedom)

by nutaolla



Series: surviving in the city [2]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Deaf Character, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, lapslock, this is honestly shit im so sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 03:48:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11477982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nutaolla/pseuds/nutaolla
Summary: it always starts as something petty, something small.(“did you take out the trash like i asked you to?”“shit, i forgot.”)and ends with insecurities being flung at each other, insults coming out harsh and sharp, slicing through hearts and souls and leaving behind gaping, pulsing wounds.(“can’t you just write down what you want to say?”“when are you going to get a real job?”)aka minseok and junmyeon fight a lot, and it's breaking them.





	raise a glass (to freedom)

**Author's Note:**

> this is shit.  
> it's rushed.  
> it's not the reality i wanted.  
> i just had to get this out and just introduce two new people, and honestly, this was stressing me out so much, that i don't ever want to look at it again >:(
> 
> warning: implied past alcohol abuse; lapslock; pretty shitty writing; proofread, but not beta-ed.

it’s not their first fight. it’s not their second, or their third, but junmyeon has given up on counting. they’ve had so many, that the number slipped into the forgotten and abandoned crevices of his mind. it doesn’t help that they’re constantly arguing recently, a mesh of waving hands and raised voices that never seem to get the message across. the words get lost in between the tears that come hot and heavy down scarlet stained cheeks, the angry beating of fists against tables, walls, and the slamming of doors when one is too tired. too tired to continue. too tired to even care.

junmyeon can’t even remember what they were initially fighting about, and he mulls over this as he slowly makes his way to his office, turning over the events in his mind.  

it always starts as something petty, something small.

(“did you take out the trash like i asked you to?”

“shit, i forgot.”)

and ends with insecurities being flung at each other, insults coming out harsh and sharp, slicing through hearts and souls and leaving behind gaping, pulsing wounds.

(“can’t you just write down what you want to say?”

“when are you going to get a real job?”)

he can hear minseok shuffling in their room, as he passes by it, and he feels a pang of guilt. an overwhelming feeling of want, of longing to hold the elder man in his arms. but alas, he knows that they both need to cool down, or they’d both be quick to let the fire hot tendrils of wrath wrap around their throats once again.

instead, he slips into his office, wandering to his writing desk and taking out his journal: it’s worn, faded navy color adding to its aging look, and thick from use. he trails a hand over the number 163 he carved into the front cover and the small _from: minnie♡, to: junnie♡_ , caging his lower lip between his teeth as the itch for a scorching liquid to burn the pain away begins to grow noticeable.

without wasting any time, junmyeon flips to the next blank page of the journal and pulling out the pen from his pocket, the practiced words tumbling from his thoughts to the ink on the paper:

_reasons why i quit drinking:_

 

  * __minseok.__


  * _i was about to die._


  * _kyungsoo was about to die._


  * _minseok._


  * _my parents._


  * _my brother._


  * _i can’t write if i’m dead._


  * _minseok._


  * _minseok, minseok, minseok, minseok._



 

he pauses, studying the crooked writing before turning the page and starting again.

-

it’s been a few days since they’ve spoken, and junmyeon finds himself listing his reasons more and more often. so much that he decided to just bring his journal with him everywhere, keeping it tucked safely under his arms as he walks to the library.

the itch in his throat has gotten so strong that he finds himself rubbing at it periodically in the attempt to soothe it. he knows that these urges are just temporary, and he does experience some blissful moments of tranquility when he’s distracted.

however, as he trudges home again, the air around him gets heavier, and the high from writing wears off, a feeling of longing for either minseok in his arms or a beer between his hands is left behind.

“an external trigger,” he hears the voice of the leader of the local alcoholics anonymous echoing in his head. “the best, and probably only, way to cure yourself of this trigger is to just… get away from it. that being said, not everyone has that ability, so it is important to remember that urges are just temporary, and you should not feel discouraged.”

junmyeon is doing his best, he really is, and he begins to recite his list, even as his feet begin the journey to the downtown pub.

 _number one, minseok_ , he thinks, crossing his arms protectively over his chest, clutching his journal tightly. the rectangular object burns through his clothes, so that it’s hot and searing against his skin, engraving the list permanently (invisibly) into his heart, and it jolts him into continuing his thoughts,   _number two, i was about to die_. his eyes cast down guiltily, as he crosses the street, knowing the consequences of his actions, yet not being able to stop himself from continuing.

 _number three._ the noise gets louder the closer he gets to the bustling nightlife. although it had barely just begun, the bars were beginning to fill as people got off of work and brought along co-workers for a night out. away from bosses, away from work drama. he wonders if minseok ever wanted to do something like this; he hadn’t seen his lover go out and have fun in a long time.

 _number four._ junmyeon really does not know what to do. writing has always been his passion, his dream, his drive, the only reason he’s alive. and yet, it didn’t seem to return his feelings (he mentally stores that line away for future purposes), and he’s beginning to grow tired. tired of disappointing minseok, tired of disappointing his family, tired of disappointing himself.

 _number five._ and maybe this is a sign. a sign for him to stop, to quit. he’d always been known for his resilience, his determination. but he knows that minseok is tiring of him fast. that the determination that once minseok might have found lovable was grating on his nerves, and he _knows_ that if he doesn’t change, their relationship will, and he is _sure_ that it won’t be for the better.

 _number six._ he’s scared. writing is the only solace he has. minseok is beautiful, he justifies to himself, he’s great. he takes his worries and chucks them as far away as he can, but minseok is also human. he has his own worries and his own breaking points, and junmyeon doesn’t like to burden him with all his problems. junmyeon knows himself. he knows he’s petty, he knows he’s easily angered, but it’s so much easier to put up a mask and later, in the confines of his office, pour all of his emotions into a poem, a story. he uses his writings to vent, and it’s not something that takes a lot of time, but why does it feel like he might never write again.

 _number seven._ it’s almost like a bad breakup. he shakes his head, it’s probably not the time to be comparing things to breakups, when his own relationship is fraying, but he can’t help himself. writing was his first love, and everyone knows that first loves are forever.

 _number eight._ love. he supposes he hasn’t told minseok that he loves him recently.

 _number nine._ he ducks his head down, feeling foolish as the smell of beer is carried out of one of the neighboring buildings. he’s inclined to enter, knowing that it wouldn’t be that hard. he has his i.d., he has a high tolerance. but he can’t. he can’t. he’s gotten so far. he can’t start over. he can’t because of -

_minseok._

junmyeon freezes just as two familiar sneakers come into view, black and basic, yet distinct, and he glances up, eyes drooping tiredly and corners of his lips pulling down. _minseok, minseok, minseok, minseok._

standing before him is an equally short man, thick rimmed glasses perched on his nose. thick eyebrows peek out from just underneath his dark brown fringe, and he’s holding a paper cup in one hand and has a backpack strapped to his back. junmyeon manages a weak smile at the sight of his best friend, lifting a hand in a feeble greeting. “hey, kyungsoo.”

“hyung,” kyungsoo responds. he glances around himself, noting the busy pub beside them, and junmyeon watches as his face softens to an expression on the verge of pitying. “oh, junmyeon hyung, what are you doing here?” not waiting for a response, he steps forward, linking his arm with junmyeon’s. “let’s go home, yeah?”

and junmyeon nods, leaning his head tiredly onto kyungsoo’s shoulders, as they begin the trek back.

-

_july 13th, 2017_

_with great sorrow, i have come to the realization that i have not been giving my relationship with the love of my life the attention it deserves. i have avoided looking at the bills, avoided looking at the spendings, avoided looking at the reality in favor of living in my own bubble in hopes of being able to write. to write myself to sleep. to write myself to death._

_and so, although my heart is heavy saying this, i have decided that writing is a career that will have to be left for another life. another life where i can continue to be selfish with my aspirations and where my choices will not affect people i care about._

-

junmyeon is dressed better than he had been dressed in a long while. the last time he looked this nice was probably at his father’s funeral, although he had been dolled up in a suit then. he looks at himself in the vanity mirror; khaki slacks and a button down shirt adorn his body. his hair is nicely styled, and he opted for his glasses to give himself a smarter look.

minseok had already left for work, giving junmyeon only a short nod before slipping out the door, and he takes that as win, since they hadn’t even acknowledged each other in nearly a week.

 _it’s strange how easy it is to ignore someone, even whilst living with them_ , junmyeon muses, giving himself one last look in the mirror, before he slips out of the room, grabbing all his necessities and walking out the apartment.

 _today is a big day_ , he thinks to himself, as he strolls down the sidewalk, attempting to send himself positive vibes. his phone beeps with an text alert from kyungsoo, a proper “good luck, hyung” lighting up the screen. he grins, briefly, replying with a myriad of emojis, knowing full well that it would annoy his best friend, before pocketing the mobile. he entertains himself by replaying the events from the night before in his mind, grateful for do kyungsoo, no matter how much the shorter boy insisted they aren’t friends.

_“what’s the problem?” kyungsoo asks, sitting beside junmyeon who was playing a mini tug-of-war game with the puppy, bobo. he hands junmyeon a glass of water, which he takes gratefully, using one hand to entertain the puppy and the other to rehydrate himself. it does little to soothe the burning in his throat, but it will have to do._

_“there’s no problem,” junmyeon responds, smiling when bobo trips over his own legs, trying to get the toy away. “it’s nothing.”_

_“don’t lie to me.”_

he and kyungsoo had had a deep and meaningful conversation (well, as deep and meaningful as a conversation can get with kyungsoo) that had put things into perspective for junmyeon, put things in an order that he felt so satisfied, his urge soothed, his heart stopped pounding, and his grip on his journal loosened.

_junmyeon is silent, before he whispers. “i need to get a job.”_

_“that doesn’t explain why i found you seconds away from relapsing.”_

_“i stopped myself,” is the grumbled reply._

_“junmyeon, look at me.”_

_the tone in kyungsoo’s voice makes junmyeon glance up, letting bobo have his victory and prance away with the rope, settling in a corner to not bother them._

he winces at the memory of his next words.

_“i think minseok might be falling out of love with me.”_

it was stupid of him to say that.

_kyungsoo doesn’t say anything. he sits back against the front of the couch, crossing his arms and watching bobo walk away from the two of them. they stay like that until chanyeol comes home, until bobo falls asleep, until the clock strikes twelve in the morning, and kyungsoo herds him to the car to drive him home._

_before junmyeon is able to slip out when they reach his and minseok’s apartment, an iron strong grip wraps around his bicep, pulling him down and suddenly he’s face-to-face with an irate kyungsoo. he holds his breath, unsure what to say to calm him down and how he even got so angry in the first place._

_“minseok fucking loves you,” kyungsoo hisses. “he loves you to the moon and back infinity times, and i know you love him just as much. don’t be stupid and just_ talk _. it’s what you should have done a week ago, and it’s what you should do tomorrow when he gets home from work.” he releases his arm and pushes the elder out of his car. “go home.”_

_junmyeon flashes a crooked smile, rubbing his arm, a “drive safely” passing his lips before he’s shutting the door and with heavy footsteps, walking inside._

he supposes he shouldn’t have expected more from kyungsoo. it had always been hard to get him to speak about anything pertaining to emotions, yet somehow, in those few words, junmyeon felt more determined and more sure about what he was doing.

and so, with renewed vigor in his footsteps, he marches towards the convenience store at the corner of the street, sparing a quick glance at the ‘HELP WANTED’ sign. he’s here for a job, he’s here for minseok, he’s here for himself, and he _will_ pass this interview, and he _will_ be the person, the lover, minseok wants and deserves.

-

_july 18th, 2017_

_this is hard._

_i work nights, minseok works days. i haven’t been able to properly tell him what i’m doing. i wonder if he’s worried, or if he cares. i wonder if_

_july 19th, 2017_

_i fell asleep._

_-_

junmyeon sits on the couch in the living room. his hands are folded neatly in his lap, and he’s watching the clock, willing it to go faster. he hadn’t been scheduled the night before to work, so after a full night’s rest, he was awake before minseok got home and before his shift. in other words: it’s the perfect time to tell him what he’s been up to.

his heart is pounding against his rib cage, and he can’t help but to feel nervous, fiddling fingers fumbling for a pen and paper to give him something to do. just as he’s about to get up to make some coffee, the digital clock by the television changes to 4:15, and he hears the front door swing open. he stands, hurrying towards the sounds of minseok kicking off his shoes and taking off his coat.

minseok doesn’t notice him, his back towards him, as he struggles to get his yellow rain jacket off, whilst holding a box of sweets in his hands. junmyeon takes pity on him, chuckling under his breath, and taps minseok lightly on the shoulder, hoping not to startle him too badly.

of course, the opposite works out, and minseok whirls around, arms swinging wildly and the box flying through the air to smack junmyeon right across the forehead.

“shit!” minseok shouts, voice probably louder than he had meant. “fuck, what are you doing? you _know_ not to sneak up on me, asshole.”

junmyeon rubs his forehead, smiling meekly. “welcome home?”

“why are you here?” there’s an edge to his tone that junmyeon backpedaling.

“pardon?”

“i mean,” minseok bends down and grabs the box once again, edging past junmyeon and heading towards the kitchen, jacket still halfway undone. “why are you here? you’ve been gone every day for the past two weeks every time i come home. so why are you here?”

junmyeon slinks after him, guilt eating away at him fervently. “well -”

“did your mistress get tired of you?” minseok’s voice is cold, his back towards him, as he stands in front of the stove..

“wh -”

“or perhaps, another man?”

“min -”

“how’s do kyungsoo in bed?”

junmyeon surges forward, grabbing minseok by the shoulders and turning him around roughly, eyes flashing angrily. “how _dare_ you say that?” he growls, uncaring whether or not minseok could read his lips. “do you really think i would do that? do you really think i would stoop so _low_?” he stares into minseok’s eyes, unable to hide the hurt that he feels for being accused of cheating. “do you really think that i could have anyone but you?”

“no.”

minseok’s answer is soft, just shy below a whisper, and junmyeon strains to hear him for any other words, but it stops there, so junmyeon steps back. he takes a deep breath.

minseok mimics him.

he takes another one and begins, “i’m sorry,” he signs, watching minseok’s tired eyes follow his waving hands. “you were right. i got a job at the convenience store downtown.” he ignores the soft gasp that escapes minseok’s lips and rambles on, hands stumbling over his words. “it’s why i haven’t really been around. my actual shift is at night, but i really want to leave a good impression on my boss and also the money, so i’ve been picking up shifts during the day too, when i’m not sleeping. you were right, though, min, i was relying on you too much and -” he freezes momentarily, clearing his throat, even though it doesn’t matter how he sounds. “- i should stop wasting time on silly dreams and support you in a more realistic way, yeah?”

a silence follows his confession, and usually that’s to be expected, what with minseok preferring sign language over speaking, but even his hands are still. junmyeon gets ready to apologize again, for once grateful for the fact that minseok can’t hear, so he doesn’t have to try to speak around the lump forming in his throat, but minseok beats him to it, voice loud and thick with a list, “quit.”

“excuse me?”

“quit.”

“i literally just got the job, min, _and_ now we have two flows of income which is what we wanted.”

“no, it’s what _i_ wanted,” minseok begins with his voice before switching to his hands. “i got annoyed that you weren’t making money, yes, but… writing is your passion. the cafe is my passion, and it’s doing well, and you were with me through all the years of the start up phase, and i… am being so selfish -”

“no,” junmyeon grabs minseok’s hands, earning himself a glare from the elder from the fact that he was silenced. “i’m not going to quit. this is important. we’re a _team_ , we have to work together. i have to pull my weight.”

“but jun,” minseok says outloud, eyes watering and words growing harder to understand. “i don’t want you to give up. you _can’t_ give up.”

junmyeon gives his lover a soft, warm smile, ignoring the feeling of his heart shattering at the mere thought that he won’t be able to dedicate his time to writing anymore and presses a soft kiss to minseok’s forehead. “it’s okay, it’s time,” he signs into minseok’s hands and tucks his face into the slightly taller man’s neck, praying that he doesn’t feel the way his lips tremble.

“ _i love you_.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> it's hard to get out of writer's block.  
> im so embarrassed by this pls don't look at me >:(  
> title subject to change mehrong.


End file.
